Page 70 of Pregnant With Their Babes

Dagr sighed before sitting down opposite her. “Where is grandfather?”

“Abed. He’s not well. For some months now.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Dagr said and meant it. Of the two, his grandfather had been a little more open with his affections—but it still had been too little for an orphaned boy starving for attention. “Is there anything that can be done?”

“The doctors have said no… no more than to keep him comfortable. It could be days… perhaps months. We have no way to know.”

“I’d like to see him before I go… if that’s possible.”

“Already thinking about leaving us again, are you?”

Dagr paused, unsure what she sought from him. “It’s not as if I belong here. We both recognize that.”

She frowned. “Why would you not belong here? This was your home.”

“This was never my home,” Dagr replied. “It was a roof over my head. One I am appreciative of, of course. You could’ve turned me away and left me to beg in the streets.”

His grandmother stared down her nose at him. “Is that how you remember your years here?”

“I grasp that I was an embarrassment to you and grandfather—the mixed-blood boy born to a foreign mother. I apologize for the misfortune of my birth and your subsequent task of being forced to care for me.”

His grandmother’s face fell. “I was forced to donothing.”

Dagr eyed her, confused at her answer.

“We loved you,” his grandmother shot back.

“Love? That’s news to me. It seemed more like you wished I never existed.”

“Yes. It was a shock when you landed on our doorstep—and I suppose wewereembarrassed to some degree. I won’t lie. We were the subject of gossip for many, many years after.” She shook her head. “Itwasdifficult. Here I was mourning a son I lovedsovery much… and handed a babe born of awitch.” She spoke the last word with heavy disdain.

“Youknewshe was a witch?”

His grandmother nodded, scowling. “Your father had sent letters home, telling us of his marriage tothat woman.”

Dagr shook his head. “That womanwas my mother. I can hear the hatred now, just as I did then. You wonder why I ran when I first had the chance? That is it. And I never looked back.” He scoffed. “I’ll leave again… as soon as I can.”

His grandmother’s eyes widened. “No… Dagr, please no. You can’t.” She lifted a shaking hand to her mouth, tears in her eyes. It was more emotion than he’d ever seen from the woman. “I can’t bear the thought of you leaving us again.”

Dagr sat stock-still. He was unsure of how to react. This wasn’t the grandmother he remembered. Not at all.

“Idon’thate you. Not at all, my boy.” A tear slipped down her cheek. She paused. “I’m aware that I was incapable of being as good a mother as you deserved… but it was difficult to gaze upon you and see the boy I lost.” She took a step closer and cupped his cheek. “You seem so very much like my Christophe. More now than ever—now that you’ve grown into a man.” His grandmother sighed, her eyes dampening with tears again. “You’ve got his eyes. I can see him regarding me every time you look my way.” Another tear fell. “And I’m sure he’s not happy with the way I’ve handled things between you and I. Nor am I. I have much to atone for.”

Dagr could only sit there, speechless. The fire crackled.

His world fell off its axis.

“I sent a man out to gauge your whereabouts and learned you’d taken off with Prince Oswald, sailing the high seas. I wrote you hundreds of letters—once I found which ports you frequented I had copies sent to all. I never heard a reply back.”

“I got some. Not hundreds, but some,” Dagr admitted. The letters had always seemed angry, and he’d wondered why she’d bothered. “You talked of me returning and learning to run the estates. I couldn’t fathom why.”

“How are you supposed to run things once we’re gone if you haven’t been shown what it all entails? Your grandfather’s holdings are vast. They’ve grown by leaps and bounds since you’ve been away.”

Dagr frowned. “I’m not his heir.”

“Not his heir? Of course you are!” She seemed to shake off her surprise. “You have much to learn and only a short time to do it.”

Dagr frowned, more confused. “I overheard you at a party when I was about twelve. The Countess of Aeryn asked if a muddle-blood would be the next duke. You clearly told her no.”

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